Bêtises and Oculolinctus

Chad's stomach is full of untoasted toast and Smucker's ® guava jelly. He had insisted to referring to it in this manner. Apparently sane people put jelly on toast. Crazy people put jelly on bread. Therefore, if Chad admitted he was eating a jelly sandwich, he'd be crazy. I think he is regardless. How stupid can a boy be to not pick up the most obvious clues? Ferrets and lonely arms seem pretty blunt to me. Chad can be a bit stuck up sometimes though. There has to be some way to get through to him.

Have you tried wine and a candlelit dinner? Galahad asked, out of breath on the treadmill. Looks like Doris got him on it after all.

A double iced cinnamon roll on a hook fell in front of him. It was dangling on a fishing line. Doris adjusted her grip on the pole to slurp at her venti pumpkin spice latte. A surge of energy went through Galahad. He suddenly had the speed of a cheetah. That, and the drool of a bloodhound.

Don't give her ideas of underage drinking. It'd be better to have sparkling grape juice than confess your love to a drunken fool. Confess your love to a sober fool instead. I would know.

Galahad was too distracted by his motivation to take offence.

I brought a stack of magazines into the room. They were mostly back issues of Tween Weekly. I figure Chad will enjoy finding pictures of himself. More accurately, I think he'll enjoy not finding pictures of me even more. I set the pile between us and dove into a periodical from a couple of months ago. There were half a dozen pictures of him or his cast. I handed it over.

He grimaced at the mustaches I had drawn on some of his pictures. A black handlebar mustache is quite the statement against his blond hair. I bet he'd be one of those people that groom it. He'd buy himself a little comb and make sure every hair is in place. He'd probably buy special shampoo and conditioner for it too. I wonder if he'd blow dry it.

Just for the sheer fact that I love making Chad's skin crawl, I decided to share a piece of my more, shall we say aberrant knowledge. I leafed through a few pages, stopping at a picture of Chad with his teeth blacked out. I looked up. He clearly was disgusted. I closed the magazine and pushed the stack aside. "Hey Chad, ever hear about oculolinctus?" He lowered his magazine from obstructing his line of vision.

"No..." He eyed me wearily. I stared straight back at him. Curiosity got the better of him. "What is it?" He set the magazine aside with the others. I grabbed a hold of his hands. His attention was firmly glued onto me. Now's the part where I get to totally freak him out. This aught to be good. Maybe I should draw it out some more.

"I don't know if you are ready. It's a very serious subject. Very, very serious." I dropped his hands and turned away dramatically. Now he just has to know.

"I can be serious. Tell me, tell me!" He was giddy like a little girl wanting to hear a secret at a slumber party. He noticed this, lowering his tone to a deep baritone. "I mean, tell me?" I got him. Hook, line and sinker. Obliging, I turned back. My gaze latched onto his. I wanted to sound completely sincere. That would freak him out even more.

"It's a paraphilia where one person gets aroused by licking their partner's eyeball. With their tongue." I darted my tongue out of my mouth and flicked it in the air. I sucked it back in. Chad refused to blink. His face was frozen in shock. What, he thought I was going to lick his eye? Not even if he paid me.

I really wish he'd blink. The way things are going, it looks like he's waiting for me to do it. I picked up my magazine. I was only a few pages into it when he responded. He finally blinked, thank God. His eyes proceeded to scrunch down in deep thought. His previously wide blue eyes were now barely visible. No need to close your eyes. I'm not putting my tongue that close to your face. Ever.

"Now that's an odd way to turn a guy on." He opened his eyes. I ignored him for a minute, engrossed in an article. Then I processed what he said. Oh yeah, there is no way I'm letting this drop now.

"Are you saying you're turned on by the idea of oculolinctus?" I let the story fall to my lap. I had meant solely to ruffle his feathers. This was unexpected. And greeted with the greatest respect. I always knew my days of researching odd things on the information highway would pay off one day. Today is that one day.

"I'm not entirely turned off. Maybe it depends on who's spit is coming in contact with my eye." He raised his eyebrows towards me. What was he implying?

"Care to elaborate on the subject? Personally, I'd love to know who you want to lick your eye. That way I know whose tongue I'm looking at when they blow it up for the cover of Tween Weekly." I was keeping calm and rational about the debacle. No need to freak out. It's not like he wants me to lick his eye. Or at least, I hope not. He yanked my tongue down and examined it. Yes Chad, these are what we call taste buds. Fascinating, but not relevant.

"You'd make a good partner." He let my tongue snap back into place. I wish he hadn't. I swear, I think I might have swallowed it. That's not even physically possible. The impossible has been happening a lot lately. It wouldn't surprise me.

"There is no way on God's green- scratch that white- earth I am ever going to lick your eyeball." I crossed my arms in defense.

"There is more than one kind of partner y'know." Ashamed, he trailed his hand down my arm, eyes drooping. "Maybe I all I wanted was a hand to hold."

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! He did not. He could not. But he did. Chad Dylan Cooper has admitted his feelings. Hallelujah let the heavens open and the angelic chorus sing. Cue lighting. This is major. Where is that spotlight?

I let my arms unravel. I took his hand, this time with no bad intentions. His eyes shot up like fireworks. I know I felt the explosions. We grinned like idiots.

"Wanna devour that piece of cake in the kitchen?" I was ready to celebrate. Mom would understand. This was the biggest thing to happen to me since, well a very long time. Besides, I'm hungry.

We raced into the kitchen and murdered the cake. No crumbs escaped, all prisoner to our bellies. I am going to be in so much trouble. It was so worth it.

Doris drinks her toffee mocha, rocking in an antique rocking chair. Galahad sits at her feet, noshing on his giant cinnamon roll. He's a sticky mess, but he doesn't seem to mind. For now, life is good. The world is in order and the surmountable amount of angst is gone.

Doris tilts back and takes a look at her work. Good job Doris.


You too Galahad. You too.

Fin. Thank you so much to everyone who as reviewed, favorited, alerted and kept me going. You guys are the best!